


Stranded

by halfpastten



Series: Pokemon Smut Collection [50]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Claiming Bites, Come Inflation, Come Marking, Frottage, Injury Recovery, Large Cock, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Permanent Injury, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Stockholm Syndrome, Stranded, Survival, attempted breeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25246573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpastten/pseuds/halfpastten
Summary: The storm came out of nowhere, tossing the ship about like a child's toy. Bradley remembers the cracking of wooden planks, as loud as the thunder above. He remembers falling and then only water.So when he wakes up, hurt and alone on an island, the only company the Pokemon that saved him... he ought to be thankful, right?Prompted by StarQuasar. Hope you like it!
Relationships: Original Male Character(s)/Daikenki | Samurott
Series: Pokemon Smut Collection [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615384
Comments: 12
Kudos: 96





	1. Determination

The storm came out of nowhere, rolling along with towering clouds that darkened the sky in a matter of minutes. There wasn't any time to change the course - the spread of the storm simply too far-reaching for their little ship to avoid it completely. They had just enough warning to strike two of their sails before the waves became mountains of churning water, crashing into them from all sides while the wind tugged on their remaining sails, tearing them apart like tissue paper.

Bradley remembered the panic he felt, that cold terror at something that was way out of human control. He remembered releasing his Pokemon out of their Pokeballs, ordering them to jump into the sea which would provide them with relative safety, knowing then that he would never see them again. He remembered the other sailors doing the same - with what they did for a living, crossing the seas for trade, most of their companions were water types. The very few Pokemon that weren't were kept in their balls in hope that somehow they'd survive, and given to the fleeing Pokemon as the humans herded them away. Death wasn't a fate anyone wanted to share with their beloved friends.

How many of his fellow sailors were lost before he, too, was torn from the ship, Bradley couldn't say. Screams were torn from their throats by the violent winds, rain and seawater almost drowning them on deck. The wooden planks creaked under the stress the darkened skies put them under until one after the other they broke with a sound that reverberated deep in Bradley's bones and teeth. Splinters hit the side of his face and his torso and he was thrown about like a ragdoll, with no more control over his limbs than he had on the ship itself. He remembered the sharp pain of it, of hitting the railing before tumbling over them, and then there was only the sea and the wicked currents, dragging him away from the sinking ship and the silent cries of his friends, down and down into the inky black depths.

~~~

Consciousness came back not slowly, but with a sudden start. The pain of his body, injured and miraculously alive, followed close-by. Every muscle seemed to ache with a passion and his face and side burned from the splinters still embedded in his flesh. His lungs felt as if a giant had taken them and wrung them out and when he coughed, a sickening mixture of seawater and blood sprayed on the wet sand underneath him. His sight was blurry and narrowed and moving even an inch had him gasping and crying with the pain of it. But despite the agony he felt, it was a blessed reminder of the miracle he found himself in, for when he'd fallen off the ship, he'd been sure to die.

But no, the sun burning down on him and the gritty feel of sand on his body were surely not just an illusion. It felt too real, too unpleasant for heavenly afterlife - and despite his pain, it surely couldn't be hell either. Somehow, he was alive. Perhaps a current or the storm itself had thrown his body onto this beach.

Perhaps he wasn't the only one who'd been so lucky, and that thought of his friends gave him the spirit to raise his head and open his eyes completely despite the sharp headache it gave him.

But the part of the beach he could see from his position was empty besides some small-breed Krabby scuttling along.

Closing his eyes, Bradley took a rattling breath as a new wave of panic set in. Alive he might be, through whatever fate, but he was injured to the point of immobilization and he was alone. He didn't dare call out for the wild Pokemon he saw - who knew what else lurked around, some kind of predator who wouldn't know a human from their usual prey? Their voyage had led them through a part of the sea that held no civilisation, no island part of the nations known to him. They'd left the last port a fortnight ago, with enough food and water to sustain for a far longer journey to make it to Kanto. The dangers of such a journey had been found adequate for the fortune they were ready to acquire. But now all the silk they'd carried was lost to the merciless sea, together with the lives of a dozen good men.

And Bradley couldn't help the tears from falling, couldn't stop himself from sobbing about the loss of it all. His friends and fellow sailors, adventurous lads and loyal to a fault. Worse yet, the loss of those dearest to him, his delightful companionship of Pokemon that he'd fostered for years now. And who was he that he'd been denied to follow them into their deaths, to join them in the afterlife?

The tears only ended when his body reminded him of not only his injuries, but his hunger and thirst as well. His stomach gave a wrenching lurch and his throat, parched and raw, twinged in warning. He couldn't afford to lose more bodily fluids; shouldn't cry for his own ill fate when he'd at least been given a chance to survive. No, he should at least try, shouldn't he? For all those who'd lost their life, his friends and his family, he should try. So he clenched his teeth and pushed himself up, screaming hoarsely at the pain this caused but fighting through it, until at least he was kneeling, gasping for breath and wincing as more and more pain bloomed throughout his body.

He was alive, and he wouldn't dare waste it.

~~~

It took him far longer than he liked to reach the tree line, away from the accursed sea and the beach lacking any of his friends. Not even a corpse to bury had been washed onto the pure, white sand. His surroundings would’ve, if not for his dire circumstances and the feverish mood his survival had put him under, surely delighted him, for he’d stranded on one of the islands that seemed to be purely made up by beautiful beaches and lush, tropical forests. The sounds of many living things, most of them of the bug type variety, as well as the sight of bright green leaves, colourful flowers and an assortment of fruits in different stages of growth and ripeness, was at least soothing to his nerves. He wouldn’t starve to death. Now he only needed to find water.

And finding water he did, dragging himself along while leaning heavily on each tree or rock that would hold his weight. Not far from the beach was a merry little stream bouncing towards the sea. A larger island, then, to support a spring of fresh water. It was more than welcome to Bradley, who fell to his knees and, ignoring the sudden and fierce ache it gave him, bend down to drink his belly full with the relatively clean water. The sensation of this refreshing treat was so overwhelming, the act of satisfying this most necessary need of his body so gratifying, that Bradley almost cried again then and there; not out of sorrow and self-pity, but of sheer gratitude and relief. But he managed to keep a hold on himself, unwilling to degrade himself any more than he already did. He would not fall that far, no matter how alone he was. No, he would keep on moving, keep on surviving, until he found whatever end fate would hand him.

His thirst was gone and his hunger followed - some of the fruits he could identify as safe to eat, and of those enough were ripe for him to consume. He savoured every bite, be they sweet or tart, and then he considered the other plants around him. It was still early in the day, according to the bright sun, and despite his bodily condition, he’d have to prepare for his stay during the night.

The place next to the stream wasn’t as good as he liked. If there was a tide, the water would come far too close for comfort. With a few pieces of fruit in his arms, Bradley hobbled further into the forest until he could be sure that the sea wouldn’t find him while still being close to his water source. Only then did he rest for a bit and considered his wounds. The splinters were painful, but not deeply imbedded - still, he’d need to pull them out and treat the wounds to avoid any infection.

He was hesitant to use the stream’s water for the washing, but right now there was no way for him to start a fire. The storm has left the ground and the broken-off branches soaking wet and it would take hours still for everything to dry despite the high temperature. So Bradley had no option but to strip down and do it there, pulling the splinters out and check for any hidden injuries he might’ve suffered in the shipwreck. Luckily there weren’t any besides the many bruises marking his skin. He might’ve broken a rib, but he wasn’t sure about it. No, he would rest for now, drink and eat and heal, and in a few hours he’d start to prepare for a fire and shelter.

Satisfied with his plan, he laid out his clothing for the sun to dry before settling between the roots of one of the bigger trees. Besides the sounds of small Pokemon, he’d yet to hear any predator, and he was far too tired and exhausted to search for a place better hidden. One branch he laid down next to him, so that he’d have some sort of weapon if woken up by a threat.

Maybe tomorrow, he could take a longer look at the beach, see if something from the ship had managed to find its way to his island. Even a scrap of metal would be immensely useful, after all.

With that thought niggling at him, Bradley drifted into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You're welcome to leave prompts and suggestions in my Idea Collection. ☺**


	2. Confusion

The second waking after the shipwreck was a slow affair. Most of the pains had ebbed down to a dull ache and the food resting in his stomach helped settle Bradley more comfortably in his situation. So it wasn’t with a start and sudden awakeness that he drifted out of sleep, but step by step until he opened his eyes with a yawn.

Naturally, when he finally became aware of his surroundings, the sight before him gave him a large fright, enough to propel him from his curled up position into a ready crouch, hindered by the lingering sleepiness clinging to his limbs.

There, in front of him, was a Pokemon watching him with keen eyes. It was a large specimen of the Samurotts, the strong, blue-skinned body and the shell-like armour couldn’t be mistaken for any other species Bradley knew despite the few glaring differences to any other Samurott Bradley’d ever seen: the shells, for one, weren’t the colour of sand, but a bright copper, and its size was unnaturally large, with a shoulder height of easily six feet alone.

Breathing in slowly, Bradley slowly relaxed when he took in the calm nature of its look and the way the sharp point of its head-shell was turned upwards, not down as they were wont when threatened. No, this Samurott, unnatural as it was, didn’t seem aggressive but curious, and when Bradley lowered his impromptu club, putting the branch away, it even shuffled closer, allowing the stranded sailor to examine it further. Long, bushy sections of whisker-fur, as well as the well-proportioned muscles, indicated that ‘it’ was in fact a ‘he’; and a handsome one at that, with a healthy sheen to his skin and the nose glistening wet.

“Hello,” he finally said as he found himself face to face with the Samurott, who huffed in reply before carefully nosing him, far too familiar and almost exasperated. He didn’t sniff Bradley out like Pokemon were wont to do with strangers, and didn’t seem surprised about the human even being here, on this island.

It was all very strange, Bradley found, but he couldn’t help but smile as he was nosed like this. He’d always loved the company of his trusted Pokemon, and even though this one was wild, it set something at ease in him, especially when those soulful eyes met his own, nudging a fragment of a memory loose enough for him to remember. Because he’d seen these eyes before, had already laid eyes on that coppery sheen of those shells, distorted by the depth of water and the random illumination of lightning far above.

“You saved me, didn’t you?” he whispered, astounded and a bit choked off, and brought one hand up for the Samurott to nuzzle against. What a weird, fantastic feeling, to have this wild Pokemon show himself so affectionate! “Whatever for? But no matter - thank you.”

He’d always been of the mind that Pokemon, just like humans, were mostly very intelligent. Each and every one of his own, lost to him as they may be, had always known what he was talking about and reacted to his words as any human would, albeit without verbally replying. The Samurott was very much the same, as he huffed again as if his deed wasn’t something special, before tilting his head and pushing his horn against Bradley’s uninjured side, gently nudging him away from the tree.

Stepping aside, Bradley watched with confused curiosity as the Samurott herded him a bit away from his sleeping spot until there was enough room around them for the big Pokemon to shuffle around the sailor, inspecting him. Bradley didn’t think to be conscious of his lack of clothing - he wasn’t, after all, in the company of his own kin. So he stood still, aware that, while friendly, his saviour was still very much untamed and therefore potentially dangerous. Had he but a Pokeball on him, he’d try to catch him and lay a foundation of friendship and trust with this remarkable Pokemon, but he’d lost almost every loose item on his person during his fall, until only the clothes on his back had survived with him.

“You seem worried,” he finally offered when the Samurott didn’t stop his inspection, maybe a bit bewildered but not yet frightened when the Pokemon nudged his bare buttocks with his snout, always so careful to avoid piercing him with his horn. “I can assure you that my injuries aren’t severe and will most likely heal with enough time.”

Another huff was his answer, and then he felt something warm and wet gliding along the curve of his bum, causing him to gasp and jump forward, away from the tongue of the curious beast. “I’m serious,” he tried again, turning so that he was facing the Samurott, who was looking at him oddly. Not that Bradley cared if the beast thought him funny - he was not about to comply with these methods of greeting, no matter how innocent in a Pokemon’s eye it may seem. “There are mainly bruises on me, a few other wounds already scabbed over. You needn’t worry.”

The odd look didn’t leave the Samurott’s face, but at least the Pokemon stopped his inspection. Still, he remained surprisingly friendly, giving out welcoming grunts before waddling in the direction of the beach Bradley had left a few hours ago. With a deep, gravely “Samurott!”, the Pokemon actually looked back as if waiting for Bradley to follow. So the sailor did until they broke out of the forest, where he saw a small collection of speared and dead fish resting on the sand not far away from the tree line.

“Samurott,” the Pokemon rumbled again and sat down, staring expectantly at Bradley.

“Is… this for me?” he asked, wondering how this could even happen. He knew, of course, that once caught, Pokemon would lean towards extreme loyalty, helping out their chosen human as much as possible. But wild Pokemon were under no such obligation. Saving a human from life-threatening situations might very well happen, but Bradley had yet to hear of such a tale where the Pokemon continued their help as if faced with a family member in peril, not a perfect stranger and human to boot. And yet here he was, naked as the day he was born, bruised and battered and still a bit unsure on his own feet, being presented with half a dozen freshly caught fish ready to be eaten.

It was at this point that Bradley seriously considered that he might be experiencing one of those fabled fever dreams. Yes, mayhaps his wounds had been more severe than thought, and one of the splinters had caused an infection. He might very well be still asleep, riddled with a strong fever.

But why on earth would Bradley’s addled brain think of a giant Samurott with copper-coloured shells?

An impatient sound pulled him right out of his thoughts and yet again Bradley found himself confronted with the face of the Samurott, who was eyeing him rather critically. Sniffing, the Pokemon bend down and grabbed one of the fish with his teeth before waddling close again. Bradley rather automatically held open his hands and moments later the fish was firmly deposited into them, now newly adorned with sharp bite-marks.

“Ah, I- thank you?” the sailor said, more than just a little lost. “I will make a fire, then. I think two or three of these will suffice - humans cannot eat such generous portions for a meal. Do you want to join me for dinner, then?” And maybe this, too, was more than a bit silly on his part - he shouldn’t bother with polite words, but in his confusion, it was nice to fall back on things he knew. Manners had always been an important part of interaction for him, no matter how wasted they might be on this wild Samurott.

“Samu,” said Pokemon agreed with a huff, looking pleased now that Bradley had accepted his gifts, even allowing him to put the fish away to search for dry firewood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You're welcome to leave prompts and suggestions in my Idea Collection. ☺**


	3. Observation

Life on the island was… odd. Not because of the usual things Bradley thought would chip away on any man in his situation - the food gathering, the building of a shelter, the slow recovery from injury and the utter isolation from civilisation. No, the thing that made his fate so odd was the Samurott that had rescued him in the first place.

His initial thoughts of the Pokemon and his strangely affectionate behaviour were fortified during the next few days. Rare were the hours in which the Samurott left him to his own devices; the beast seemed to prefer the company of the struggling human and followed him around whenever Bradley went on to explore the island, keeping close and watching him and occasionally bringing him more food.

The island was of medium size and alone in the sea, without any smaller bodies of land in sight. Surrounding it were shallow waters, possibly stone formations lurking close to the surface. The centre of the island was a lushly grown forest surrounding a hill he had yet to climb for better vision. With its elongated shape, Bradley took half of a day to cross the slimmest part of the island; for the longer journey down the length, he’d not felt ready as well.

All in all, the island was near perfect for a person or two to comfortably live on. The clear water spring was reasonably clean and close to his current shelter of branches and ferns, and there were plenty of fruit-bearing plants surrounding the area. With the weirdly friendly Samurott helping out with fish and other sources of protein, Bradley found that he was healing along nicely, even getting proper rest. No matter his worries about his hefty companion, sleeping next to such a strong Pokemon, curled up to his armoured body, had him feel a measure of safety against any unknown threats.

If only this niggling feeling wouldn’t leave, this chill up his spine after hours of being watched. Worse were the moments the Samurott decided to see for himself if Bradley was healthy and whole, nudging him and sniffing him out for long minutes and, if Bradley tried to get away, even trapping him against a rock or a tree to force the inspection upon him. Him being a wild Pokemon was what made it so uncomfortable for Bradley - he knew he couldn’t fully trust his saviour, no matter how grateful Bradley was for his rescue. His only solace was his bit of knowledge pertaining to this particular species so that he could at least avoid any blunder that was sure to offend the Samurott.

It made for some interesting days, in which Bradley tried to get a proper read on his companion. With his unusual colouring and size, the Samurott surely made for a prize Pokemon. He was dead useful as well, with his excellent hunting skills and body warmth during the cooler nights. And whenever Bradley dared to give him a scratch in reply to a friendly nudge, the Samurott was sure to bray out loudly with delight, sometimes even flopping over for a thorough belly rub. Oh, how he wished he could trust this beast, how he wished that at least one Pokeball had kept to him - he’d have loved to catch this fellow, to make him truly his friend without fear of a sudden change in mood and liking.

But alas, the beaches had been devoid of any wreckage; no chests or planks or nails had found their way to his island and no bodies either. Bradley wasn’t sure to be glad or not. The lack of anything he could fashion a trusty weapon with, or any loot to make his life easier, was surely a struggle, but the lack of bodies was now, after Bradley regained some calmness, definitely a relief. Let the sea have their bodies, he thought; their souls were surely safely in the afterlife and well-looked after, and the sea was grave to a number of other good men already. They were in good company.

This then was the way of life for Bradley, for the fortnight he had been here: waking next to Samurott, who’d always shuffle close and closer during the night until firmly pressed against his human friend; scavenging foods and things he could use and checking his flimsy shelter; building a fire while Samurott went into the sea, ready for the food he would bring with him; washing his body and his clothes as best as he could, because being stranded was no reason to be filthy; adding to his shelter or going for a walk to explore and map out his surroundings; settle down for another night under the stars, hoping that no new storm would come that would blow his shelter away.

And during all those days, Bradley wondered how it was that he was even tolerated. For the Samurott was, outside of their mating seasons, the kind that lived alone. This island was clearly the territory of his companion, for there were no other large Pokemon to find. Even the seas stayed clear of them, wherever his Samurott decided to swim. He would also be likely to mark certain places - a number of rocks and logs and living trees bore the scars of his horn; others had been rubbed on for the smell of the beast to linger. So in this, the Samurott was a usual male; surely, he shouldn’t tolerate Bradley’s presence, let alone actively bringing him here.

At the end of the fortnight, in the early evening that Bradley spent on the beach, longingly looking out, he finally got a proper taste of just how dangerous his companion was if meddled with.

He was just finishing up his meal, watched, as usual, by the Samurott. The beast had a weird investment in his meals, but as long as it provided Bradley with fresh fish and scallops, it was something he could bear. Like always, Bradley gave the Samurott a smile and his thanks, which the Pokemon accepted happily. Only then the Samurott startled, his head snapping upwards and towards the sea.

The movement was so sudden, so fast, that Bradley wasn’t entirely sure what happened until a few moments later when the Samurott let out a loud and challenging snarl, the fur-whiskers bristling and rearing his sharp horn. Only the fact that it was so clearly not against Bradley had the sailor still sitting instead of running for the hill; as it was, Bradley followed his companion’s gaze towards the calm waters, narrowing his eyes until he spotted the rapidly moving shadow coming closer to the shore.

The Pokemon that jumped out of the water wasn’t of any species Bradley was familiar with. Half frightened, half fascinated, he shuffled behind the roaring Samurott, eyes keen on the strange figure.

It was, Bradley thought rather dazzedly, like the missing evolution between a Poliwrath and a Politoad, only larger than any of those variations, and meaner-looking as well. Bulging muscles were covered in tough-looking blue skin, which was adorned with black and cerulian spots. Its eyes were of a sinister red shade, utterly unimpressed with the roaring of the Samurott. Only a short glance was given to the Pokemon before the newly arrived beast set its eyes on Bradley, a sleazy grin spreading on its face.

Bradley shuddered and shuffled further back and the Samurott, sensing the new danger to the human he’d rescued, gave a mighty bellow and charged the strange Pokemon.

It was an impressive battle, but not the like that Bradley had seen before, in those fancy battle rings built in almost every major city. There, the men and women took great care of their Pokemon friends, and the battles were not as vicious, not as deadly - great injury was heavily frowned upon in the battle sport, for it was a measure of skill and cunning, not of brute strength. Here, though, Bradley was confronted with rather natural behaviour - the strange toad-like Pokemon was fighting to get to Bradley, who probably was attractive prey for some; Samurott roaring furiously in protection of the sailor.

Only that it wasn’t natural. When the feeding and the rescue had been without any reason Bradley could fathom, this display of battle-loyalty was utterly bewildering. Samurott was a wild Pokemon, one who wouldn’t give out his loyalty just like that. Maybe, if Samurotts weren’t so fiercely solitary during most times, but this? This was dedication reserved for their mates and their family, not for strangers like him, not even a fellow Samurott, not even a Pokemon, but a human of all things.

Yet there the beast was, slashing intently away at the aggressor, wielding his horn like a spear and a sword alike, strong claws of his fins grabbing and ripping at the enemy despite the bone-rattling punches the other Pokemon threw at him, giving as good as it got.

In the end, though, the Samurott was the winner, chasing the strange Pokemon back into the sea to lick its wounds. Heaving and bristling still, Samurott stood where the beach met the sea, the foamy water dancing around his body, head held up high and bleeding.

He was bleeding, and Bradley was up and towards him in moments, more worried than he could ever be wary right now. Placing his hands upon the neck of the Samurott, he inspected the bruises and the cut skin, only vaguely noting that the Samurott, despite being injured, was content in letting Bradley touch him.

“Thank you,” Bradley breathed and brushed his fingers over a healthy patch of skin and laughed when the Samurott nudged him fondly. It was odd, so very odd, but maybe this was fate yet again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You're welcome to leave prompts and suggestions in my Idea Collection. ☺**


	4. Realisation

The impressive fight had settled something in Bradley; some inner unrest in the presence of the hefty Samurott. Why, if the Pokemon was so willing to endure injury to see him safe, the least he could do was to offer him his trust and friendship? If the fates were as generous as to provide him with this excellent companion, what did his odd quirks matter to the sailor?

Yes, surely this was the right thing to do. And thus began the third week of his isolation, with offered affection towards the beast who fed him and protected him, gentle words and scratches and belly rubs whenever the Samurott approached him. Now they spent even more time together and instead of simply watching him, the Pokemon now craved his attention. And Bradley had, his daily chores quickly done, more than enough time to indulge him in those. It frankly felt like they shared the bond only a human and a Pokemon caught and trained could form, and it gave Bradley even more security, to the point where he often forgot the fact that his Samurott was, indeed, a wild Pokemon.

Maybe those were the reasons why he was so blinded. In retrospect, many of their interactions surely were weird, with how often the Samurott demanded Bradley’s touch, or demanded to nuzzle against him. Now all their nights were spent closely together, with Bradley curled right next to him, basking in the warmth the Pokemon provided. Each and every day, the Samurott would scent-mark the places they spent their time in and the number of fish provided to Bradley grew to the point where he couldn’t possibly eat them all in a day.

But the memory of the beast standing so surely and furiously between him and the aggressive Pokemon was too strong, too fresh for Bradley to remain wary and suspicious. He treated the Samurott like one of his own and overlooked all the small signs that the Samurott did the same. Not like a caught Pokemon, which mostly adapted to a human’s way of such a relationship; no, he very much treated Bradley like a Pokemon himself.

So when the Samurott started to take offence at Bradley’s clothing, the simple pants and his shirt and vest and the boots on his feet, it took the sailor quite by surprise. “I need them,” he tried to explain over and over, but to no avail. With increasing frequency, the Samurott huffed and growled at the offending items and Bradley found himself in the situation of having to hide his possessions whenever he took a bath in the stream.

Sadly, the Samurott was rather intelligent and very determined. The first item he lost to the Pokemon’s weird fixation were his shoes - good, sturdy leather boots that had kept his feet protected during his explorations. When Bradley got back to the hiding place, the beast was chewing them up rather viciously, a smug expression on his face as he spat out small chunks of the sole. He’d hid them between the roots, his other clothes bundled up and hidden in the branches of the tree, thankfully out of the Pokemon’s reach.

“I told you,” Bradley had said in anger, which was ignored by the Pokemon. Only later would he count himself lucky by that. “I told you I need them! I’m not as sturdy as your kind!”

He continued his baths, now hiding his clothes even more carefully. And for some days it worked - all until, during another quick wash, Bradley heard a thunderous creaking and snapping of living wood, and a crash followed by it. Frightened by the loud noises, he jumped up and towards them, only to be greeted by the sight of the beast next to the fallen tree.

The Samurott had felled the tree with his precious belongings, all so that it could tear them apart. Here Bradley found himself close to tears again, shouting at the unthinking behaviour of the beast, even trying to rescue some of the scraps in hopes to mend them together, but to no avail. Gnarling and hissing, the Samurott tossed him aside and continued to rip his clothes into fine shreds, far too small to ever be mended together again.

It brought to light his situation with remarkable strength. This was not one of his beloved friends, those he’d caught and taught and loved like his own kin. This was a wild Pokemon, and while it might have some interest in his safety, it was still without any understanding to Bradley’s own needs and wishes. Maybe his clothes had been too much a reminder for the beast that Bradley wasn’t from here, but from a whole other place, and thus annoyed with the presence of those items, he’d set out to destroy them.

That night, Bradley refused to sleep next to the Pokemon despite his lack of warm clothes, and he made it very clear to the Samurott just how much he’d invaded his personal space. It upset the wild Pokemon a lot, but Bradley heard none of the harumphing and ignored any demanding nudges, instead seeking shelter between the comforting roots of his first hiding place.

~~~

He woke with a gasp - something was wrong, very much so. What exactly became apparent with only one glance. The Samurott had managed to crawl right up to him, despite his current position, and was looming over him, almost covering him completely. Propped up on his arms, claws digging into the bark of the tree, his face was contorted into focussed intent.

But what really was disconcerting was the press of something hot and wet and _pulsing_ against Bradley’s thigh.

Looking down, a muffled shout escaped him, for the thing he felt was the erected penis of the beast. Fitting in size to the hefty Pokemon, the thing was of a length of Bradley’s forearm and just as thick to boot, the tip tapering off to a twitching point already leaking a clear fluid. Bright red in colour, the meaty shaft was lumpy and thoroughly veined, the whole thing glistening wetly as the Samurott rubbed it against his bare leg. With every enthusiastic rut, the heavy scrotum pushed and rubbed as well against him.

Disgust welled up in Bradley like bile and with a jerk, he rolled away from the sickening sight, scrambling hastily to his feet and backing away. The change in the beast was immediate - the lusty expression cleared away to outrage and with a snarl, it lunged after the sailor.

It was too much - all his previous worries and suspicions came crashing down again on him. “Get away from me!” he shouted and turned to run away. Weeks of good food and rest and safety had paid off, his injuries healed a long time ago and his strength regained. Unheeding of the direction he took, as long as it was away from the mad Pokemon who thought him a proper mate, he ran into the forest and for the hill with the enraged Samurott in pursuit. But for now, Bradley was faster, his panic almost giving him wings.

When he lost the beast, he wasn’t sure, but when he came to his senses again he was quite lost in the thick tropical forest. It took him a while before he recognized the side of the hill - he was north to it, given the position of the sun above. Searching for any signs of the beastly fiend, Bradley made his way up the hill until he found a sturdy tree to climb, hiding himself away, shivering and feeling filthy and degraded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You're welcome to leave prompts and suggestions in my Idea Collection. ☺**


	5. Desperation

The hysteria wouldn’t leave the sailor for quite some time, keeping him firmly in his hiding place and awake. Neither hunger nor thirst could move Bradley from his tree for that first day and through the night - not as long as he could hear the braying and hissing of the Samurott searching for him from afar. He wanted to wash himself off the filth still staining his leg but didn’t dare to touch the spot where the Pokemon had rutted against him. The memory had him sick and breathless in his panic.

It made so much sense now - how he hadn’t seen it, he couldn’t say. The rescue and the offerings of food, the affectionate behaviour and the demands for his touches… again and again, Bradley’s stomach lurched in disgust, his brain replaying all those little moments, the excessive scent-marking of territory, the company kept during the nights, the aggressive protection against an enemy. For whatever reason this wild beast thought Bradley his mate and now sought him out for the mating season. And Bradley didn’t know what to do. He was trapped on this island with the fiend, not knowing how long this fancy would hold, if the Samurott would give up his pursuit. And what then? This was his territory, not Bradley’s - if the Samurott came to the conclusion that Bradley would not return his desires and offer his body for the pleasure of breeding, surely the beast would come to see him as some sort of enemy as well. That was the way of the wild Pokemon, the untamed, and for him to ever have thought otherwise of the Pokemon had been the height of stupidity.

So he kept to his tree, miserable and filthy and pained by hunger and thirst and the lack of sleep, until a new day dawned. At least the braying had stopped, although this, too, came with a steep price - Bradley had no way to discern where the Samurott was. Only one thing was sure: the stubborn beast wouldn’t give up his prize so easily. But what to do? In a fight, he wouldn’t stand a chance, and for every need his body put upon him, Bradley had to leave the relative safety of the tree.

Not that his hiding spot was a long-term solution, even if he managed to find some way to water and feed himself up above. His clothing stood as a statement to that; he remembered vividly what the Samurott had done before, easily felling a sturdy tree to reach his goals.

What Bradley needed was speed and stealth on his side. Yes, maybe he could manage to gather up some much-needed resources, some fruits and a measure of water. Then he could search for a better place to hide and be safe and even plot some new strategy to get some control of the situation. Swallowing down his fear that threatened to paralyze him even longer, the sailor timidly climbed down his tree, listening intently for any sound that could betray the amorous Pokemon.

He managed to find some food, a couple of ripe fruits he knew he could safely consume. Eating was a fast and messy affair, always on the look-out and with no thought of how barbaric he must look. His manners meant little if it would slow him down, after all; even his nakedness couldn’t quite garner much shame out of him, afraid and worried as he was. The thread of the beast finding him and repeating the dreadful act on his body was too strong.

It was the need for water, both to drench his thirst and to clean himself up, that stumped him. He knew of only one spring on this island, to the south of the hill and back to known territory. But surely that was where the beast was lurking, waiting for an opportunity to prey on him once more?

But he needed it. Already he could feel the effect of a day and a night with no liquid. His throat was parched in the tropical climate, his body growing weak with the lack of water. So he braved the way back, every nerve thrumming with anxiety, every sound and movement making him flinch. He didn’t walk back to his old shelter, though, but instead searched for the spring itself that would form the merry stream, almost crying when finally he found it without the Samurott in sight. Quick as he could he bend down to drink, eyes open and looking around.

Yet the sounds of the stream betrayed him, covering up the approaching beast as he took hasty gulps of the cool drink. Without any warning, he was grabbed and thrown afar from the spring, landing on the ground with a yelp. Without a thought, Bradley rolled to his hands and knees, ready to make for a sprint, but to no avail - a great weight bore down on him, his limbs giving up the fight, and he was firmly pressed to the ground face-down, the familiar warm body of the hefty Samurott on top of him.

His following thrashing and shouts couldn’t affect the Pokemon any less - his pleas and threats went ignored, his every attempt to flee squashed by the sheer weight of the beast. The Samurott brayed in triumph and brought his head down to sniff and playfully bite his prize’s neck, and Bradley could feel it again, this dreadful thing as it slipped out of the beast’s body, hot and fat and wet against his thighs as the Pokemon wriggled in delight on top of him.

“No, no!” Bradley shouted, but the Samurott’s huffing and braying were louder still. He was bracing himself on top of the sailor - Bradley could clearly feel the way muscles bunched up in preparation, without giving him an inch to squirm to safety. Even worse, his frantic attempts to get away only seemed to excite the beast even more, for with every movement that slippery penis would swell even more with the friction, and soon the weight of the scrotum followed, pressing snuggly against his thighs while the Pokemon’s shaft rubbed against Bradley’s bare arse.

By the time the rutting started, Bradley was a crying mess once more, unable to fight against the hefty beast that took such basic delight in his violation. His previous escape had clearly caused some impatience, for the Samurott’s pace was hard and unforgiving; he was rocking his lower body harshly against Bradley’s behind, grounding the sailor against the ground with each firm thrust, and soon the Samurott was rutting and grunting quite frantically with no regard to the limits of Bradley’s body. How long this went the sailor could not say - were it mere minutes or hours that slippery cock was rubbed against the curve of his bum, nestled between the cheeks of the human? But end it did at some point, with two, three last thrusts and a loud bellow. Lifting his lower body further up, the cock gave a mighty twitch and then something hot and sticky splashed against Bradley’s abused skin, and then another on his legs, and another on his lower back. Again and again the Samurott brayed and bellowed, and again and again his cock thrashed and pulsed and spewed out the beast’s seed until Bradley felt like his whole backside was covered in it. He gagged at the potent smell of it and gnashed his teeth so as not to vomit, but it was a hard thing to suppress when the Samurott lowered himself yet again, rubbing himself one last time against him.

And then the beast rolled off of the sailor with a satisfied huff and waddled away, leaving the violated man shivering on the ground.

~~~

The smell wouldn’t go away, no matter that Bradley washed as many times as he could, no matter that he took handfuls of sand to rub his skin almost raw. It lingered around him, a cloying, thick and musky odour that firmly ruined his appetite. Worse yet, the potent stink was like a flag raised - after the first attack, the Samurott had no problems to find Bradley two times more, once in the evening and once at dawn, each time to repeat the violent act against him. And each time, Bradley had less and less power to struggle against the Pokemon, who’d simply pin him down and rut against him in abandon. The third time the sailor even got unfortunate enough to be lying on his back during the frotting, so that that terrible cock was stimulated against his own flaccid penis. The following marking with the beast’s sperm had his front covered, some of it even reaching his face.

And Bradley knew, he _knew_ that it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the Samurott for long. At some point the beast would try to mate him proper, to force himself onto him for real. And between two males, no matter the species, there were only so many options to go with.

Which was why, after that third attack, Bradley stopped trying to run. Instead, he used the few hours he had before he suspected another assault by feeding and cleaning himself to regain some measure of strength.

And then he did what he should’ve done a long time ago: he fashioned himself a weapon.

It was a crude thing that he managed to get - nothing more than a long, sturdy branch with a sharp point, the other end split and fitted with the sharpest stone he could find. Some fibrous plant was used as a string to hold the thing together and then he wandered up the hill, knowing that the beast would find him no matter where he went.

But the hill, at least, would offer him some potential advantage; he could attack from above and evade the horn should the Samurott retaliate.

There was no escape to find on the island, Bradley knew that very well. So he would fight and either come out victorious or finally die.

Everything was better than be the plaything of this beast, for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You're welcome to leave prompts and suggestions in my Idea Collection. ☺**


	6. Confrontation

Clutching his crude weapon, Bradley settled down for the wait, sure that the beast would find him by the stench of his seed alone. It was still enough to make him sick, which made it hard for the sailor to find any appetite. Or maybe that was due to the revulsion and humiliation he felt - three times now the Samurott had defiled his body to fulfil his own lesser needs. Not only did Bradley had to go through this, no - crouching amidst the lesser plants, his back firmly against the trunk of an older tree, he still suffered through the disgusting memories. His skin crawled where the beast had rubbed himself against him, hot and wet and sticky. His ears still rung with the sounds of ecstasy the Samurott had made, the braying and grunting and huffing making the rut so much worse.

Why, oh why would such a creature see him as someone to mate with? Surely there should be female Samurott around, which whom this specimen could breed freely.

But would Bradley still be alive, if not for the unnatural tastes of this wild Pokemon?

The thought had him shudder; even now, death by drowning would surely be worse. He’d been saved by the whim of the Samurott, kept alive and fed for weeks. If not for the amorous behaviour, he’d have been happy on this island despite his isolation. But this was ruined now by the forceful demands of the beast.

The rustling of leaves and the soft huffing of a large creature nearby had Bradley snap out of his musings. Hands wrapped around the makeshift weapon so tight that his knuckles whitened, he sucked in a shallow breath as he listened for the Samurott. The beast was sniffing him out and drew closer. Just a moment more, just a little bit closer…

And then it broke through the underbrush, head swivelling about, nostrils flaring and eyes eager. The beast spotted his prize just as Bradley jumped forward, his small spear swinging wildly with a matching shout. The sharp stone at the end of his weapon clipped the beast’s neck, just barely producing a gash in the tough skin, but it was enough to have the Samurott rear up on his hind legs with a roar.

The fight, if one could call it that, didn’t last long. There was a reason why humans sought out their Pokemon companions, to foster friendship with these beautifully strong beasts - they were simply so much stronger than them. And Bradley was no exception. The first strike had landed plainly because of the moment of surprise; the second hit because he was not careful enough and got too close.

With a quick jerk, the beast’s head came down on him, the sharp horn meeting Bradley’s bare and unprotected leg. The pain nearly immediately crippled him as flesh tore apart and blood sprayed out. The sailor’s leg gave out under him and with another yank and shove, he was flung away from the beast, his head hitting against some protruding rock with a thunk that had him see black spots even with his eyes wide open.

The Samurott was rigid with anger, eyes narrowed as he sniffed the crude weapon. Then he bit down and tore it apart as he had done to Bradley’s other possessions. When he looked over to the bleeding and barely awake man, however, the anger shifted to something else.

“Please don’t,” Bradley whispered, watching the fiend come closer. His blood still clung to the horn when the Samurott lowered his head, but he did not end him - instead, he sniffed and nudged around the open wound, eliciting a muffled cry from the human.

The spots grew larger, his sight blurring out. The Samurott was inspecting him closer again, braying softly. And then, just as the beast grabbed hold of him, dragging him away from the hill and towards the beach, Bradley sunk into the merciful darkness.

~~~

For a fleeting moment, it was like waking up again a month ago, back when he’d thought he would drown but found himself stranded on an island instead. The sun was glaring down on him and his body ached fiercely; the sand was hot and coarse underneath his naked body and the sounds and smells of the sea wafted over to where he was lying prone.

But the pain was of a different kind - a sharp tug and low pulsing, reverberating up from his stiff feeling leg. When he tried to move it, he cried out as the pain rushed him tenfold. Already he was out of breath, his head pounding with his heart. Then he remembered: the fight and his hasty defeat and the Samurott dragging him away.

Something landed next to him with a wet sound. Bradley looked to the side, the simple act of moving his head already a struggle. It was a fish, bite marks clearly the cause of its death, and behind it, looming above Bradley, was the beast, peering down on him and barking softly.

His tongue felt like an alien thing in his dry mouth. Moving it around a few times, searching for elusive moisture, Bradley swallowed painfully. When he spoke, his voice was weak and rough. “Why are you doing this?” he asked the Samurott, but the creature simply tilted his head before taking a bite from the fish.

Bradley was too hungry, too thirsty and too desperate to not feel a little bit thankful when the beast proceeded to feed him the soft mush, but mostly he just felt disgusted.

~~~

For days he battled his injury, with the Samurott holding patient vigil next to him. Food and water he got plenty as he drifted in and out of the darkness. He knew, somehow, that his wound had gotten worse - his body was hot and dry like in a fever, his thoughts jumbled and his mind in disarray. Sometimes, he remembered that he ought to get away from the Pokemon that took care of him, protected him. Most times, he could only whisper his thanks, too tired to even cry in his sorry state.

The most glaring thing was the lack of violation - he’d attacked the Pokemon and paid a steep price for it, but instead of taking advantage of his vulnerable state, for Bradley couldn’t fight no more, the beast did not approach him for his vile intentions, but went back to his previous behaviour of affection and protection alone. In his more lucid states, Bradley wondered why - surely now, after his perceived betrayal, he should be cast away by the proud creature?

Was this really the fate he’d been bestowed, the price he had to pay for his prolonged life, to be loved and lusted after by such a creature? If so, how was he to stomach this? He could either die, for there was no way he would ever run again to avoid the beast, or accept it.

The fever went worse for a couple of nights - he was too hot and too cold, clinging to life just so. There were no memories of these days but the consistent warmth of another body next to his own. The infection festering in his wound was then driven away during these trying times and when he woke up again, his injury finally started to heal - in a fashion.

Because his leg would be useless from now on. The slash of the horn had severed the muscles of his limb. Without any medical help, it was now closing and healing without the flesh growing together. There would always be a large, gnarly, crippling scar running up and down his calf, a deep gouge of his flesh and constant reminder of his most foolish idea.

But healing it did, slowly and steady, and with his regrowing strength and health came back the more invested interest of his nurse; more demands for his attention, more demands for his touch. It was still unwelcome, still disgusting to Bradley, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight it. Fear clung to him, fear of repercussions worse than what he already brought upon himself. And so he simply endured it, the nudging and sniffing and the licks across his skin, no matter how much he wanted to shout and trash and run away. And what a laughable wish that was, indeed! For he could manage a hobble, perhaps, with his leg like this. But running would never be an option again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You're welcome to leave prompts and suggestions in my Idea Collection. ☺**


	7. Submission

It was an inevitability, Bradley knew, that once he was able to move around again, that his personal hell would start anew; and with him being awake and lucid once more during the majority of the day, enough to cook up the fish that the beast brought him each day like clockwork, it wasn’t to be long now. Already the Samurott displayed all those signs of unnatural affection towards him, as if readying himself for the mating, a thought that sickened Bradley like nothing else could do.

And it wasn’t as if the sailor had never given in the curiosity of laying with another man - he was, after all, often bound for weeks and months to a voyage, and not every rumour about his kind was unfounded. There had been nights of hushed up meetings under deck aplenty when all was dark and asleep but a few of those who couldn’t bear the loneliness anymore, who missed the touch of another person and the company of another body. Some, Bradley knew, were so inclined as to only crave the company of other men, which wasn’t something he ever felt to demonize; others went into such an embrace simply to sate their urges.

But to lay with a Pokemon, something so very different from humankind, and to enjoy it - every part of himself shied away from such a thing, repulsed by the sheer thought of it. Yet he knew that it would be the price for his living, no matter how steep he might think it. For this island was firmly within the range of the Samurott, and as long as Bradley didn’t turn into a fish himself to swim away to safety, he was stuck here, utterly alone in his misery.

It was fated, but what an ill fate it was; yet he wasn’t ready to drown himself, not when he alone, of all his friends, had been allowed to live another day after that dreaded storm.

So he prepared for it whenever he could without gaining even more attention of the beast. Old memories surfaced, techniques of now-dead friends who’d guided him through the process. It felt odd, doing this himself, his wetted fingers so foreign inside; odd, but not wholly unwelcome. The slick and slide after some work was even enjoyable, as long as he could forget for what he was doing this. Any stray thought about the Samurott would sour his stirring arousal, ruining each attempt of completion, but that might be a good thing, too - even without reaching orgasm, the Samurott would take his time to smell him out after.

He couldn’t avoid the beast and his intentions, but he had no interest in bringing that fate upon him even a minute too soon.

~~~

The beast was watching him intently, fish dropped onto the sandy ground. Bradley hadn’t the strength to meet that gaze, though he noticed that yet again, the Samurott had placed the food a few paces farther from him and the fledgeling fire.

It was a test, so obvious in nature and yet effective - either he starved that day or prove his improving health by gathering the fish himself or, even worse, turn around to collect some fruit. Struggling with the decision, the rumbling of his empty stomach finally forced his hand after several minutes into the standstill; he knew, from days previous, that the Samurott would not be moved to humour him, and Bradley could not think of another day without a meal and fish rotting in the sun.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly got up to his feet, his injured leg shaking with the effort. The skin has since formed a thick scar over the gouge, causing him to walk slowly and with a pronounced limp, at times even dragging the leg behind. But he could move, could reach the fish even if he was a bit out of breath after reaching his prize. Fish in hand, he finally met the eyes of the Pokemon and flinched back at the triumph in them. Jaw working, he hoped, hoped, hoped more than ever that it would still be not enough for the beast, that he would wait another day, another week, another month - but Bradley knew then that the moment his meal was finished, the Samurott would claim the fruit of his labour.

The fish tasted like ashes and bile and was cold long before he ate the last piece.

Just as Bradley had guessed, it was with his final swallow that the beast came closer. The fire was swiftly killed with a measure of sand, shovelled onto it with one clawed fin. The urge to flee was intense, yet the sailor did not give in - he wouldn’t suffer further humiliation by hobbling away into the forest like the cripple he was, only to be caught not ten meters away and put into place. Who knew what the Samurott would do, should he try to fight again? One leg was as good as lost already, and the beast could easily take another to render him immovable and easy to handle like a marionette cut off the string. A puppet of pleasure, surely, to be fed and watered and violated as the beast liked.

So he sat still, wincing and shivering when the Samurott reached him, but going down nonetheless when shoved to the ground. A tongue, wide and slick with saliva, ran up and down his neck and chest and Bradley swallowed a sob as he closed his eyes. _Lean back and think of Galar_ , he thought bitterly of the old joke. Only now he was to do this, to spread his legs for this creature. The weight ontop of him was almost familiar at this point as the Samurott slid over and settled, his underbelly and crotch nestled against the sailor.

And yes, there, there was the dreaded thing - Bradley could not see it, but he could feel how, with every lick and nuzzle, with every sniff the Samurott took of him, the beast grew more exited. The hot, wet tip of his penis slid out of the body - memories of the thing crowded Bradley’s mind as it swelled into its full size, the bright red colour, the thickness and how richly veined it was, the almost glossy shine and the pointed tip. And there was the added weight of the scrotum, the heavy ballsack resting against his inner thighs. With a grimace, Bradley forced his legs wide open and his knees into an angle, his face turned away towards the sea. The hot breath of the beast ghosted over his wet skin and he shuddered, gasping when he felt the beast’s cock slip between his cheeks.

He knew, Bradley thought frantically. He knew. This would not be the incessant frotting from before; far too precisely was the tip aligned to his opening, still slightly open from his previous efforts while the beast had been hunting. A whimper escaped him with the first prodding push. Would he die from this? Would he survive this ordeal? Would he-

And then, with a satisfied grunt, another push came, this time with certain strength behind it. The tip slid inside of him, already pushing against the limits of his body, and Bradley sucked in a breath from the sensation, his hands trying to gain some purchase on the sandy beach. Another jerking motion forward, and the slight stretch turned into a burn. The third thrust finally coaxed a strangled scream out of his throat, and still the beast was not done. The pain tore through Bradley’s body as more and more of that thick cock forced its way into him, filling him out beyond anything he’d ever felt. There was such a pressure against his inner walls that he couldn’t help but push back to relieve some of it - but all he accomplished was a lustful bray of the beast followed by an eager thrust that saw him fully entering Bradley’s behind, ballsack pressing snuggly against his spread cheeks.

Tears were running down his face, blinding him along with the sharp pain radiating upwards. Hitching breaths and swallowed sobs did nothing to gain any pity from the Pokemon as it swiftly started to move in earnest, the heavy body rocking harshly into the tightness of the human. It was far from a smooth slide at first, his entrance fiercely clamping down on the intruder; minutes passed until the jerky pace turned into some semblance of rhythm. The pain, however, lessened only minutely, from sharp knives to a low, aching pull and pulse as his body arched and his stomach bulged with each powerful thrust.

His screams and groans and gasps mingled with the beast’s more enthusiastic sounds that rung in Bradley’s ears to follow him into countless nightmares in the nights to come: the grunting and huffing, the laboured breaths of the beast, the loud and triumphant braying and roaring punctuated the force in which Bradley was bred. Worse yet were the sounds from their connected lower halves, for the beast’s cock was pounding into him with a sickening wet slapping; but maybe that was the ballsack leaving his buttocks in bruises. It was hard to concentrate on these things, harder yet to ignore them while ravaged as such.

So Bradley did none of those things, eyes set on the sea despite the blurry of his tears and the rocking motions and the sand scrubbing against his skin and the merciless sun glaring down on the mating couple. He stared and stared, sobs turning into moans, pain into pulsing into hot pressure and the constant friction deep inside, sweat dripping from his brow and drool from the beast’s snout, as moments turned into minutes into who knew how long…

And then he felt it - the twitch of the beast’s cock, lodged inside, was impossible to ignore. It pulled him out of his dazed state somewhere between the sea and the pain and the heated feeling low in his stomach. His eyes flickered up and there was the Samurott, leaning close, breath hot and stinky and right on his face, teeth glinting in the sun. The snout moved down along his jaw and right at the side of his neck he was bitten, hard enough to draw some blood just as the beast came.

His shout was muffled, eyes rolling back, and then he couldn’t even do so much as whimper; the sensation of the Samurott ejaculating inside his body was simply too much. The sticky, hot fluid came out of the pumping cock in thick ropes, quickly coating him, then filling him, the pressure building even more. Bradley felt his eyes widen, his mouth opening, but the sound he made was not a shout but a gurgle. Again and again, the Samurott rutted forward, again and again, another measure of his seed came out, and just as he thought he would burst from it, the beast breathed out, body slack in a sudden, and rolled off him.

It took him long until Bradley could breathe again; and breathed he did, in great gasps and sucks, filling his burning lungs with precious air while the slick semen flowed out of him like some unholy stream, his muscle clenching around empty air. Heart pounding up to his throat, he took little notice to the small patch of stickiness on his very own stomach, mingling with his sweat on his tanned and dirty skin. All he could do was to stare up to the clear blue sky, wondering if this was really worth it.

But he was alive still. And that had to matter, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You're welcome to leave prompts and suggestions in my Idea Collection. ☺**


	8. Epilogue

Portman frowned as he looked around. They had landed on this island only recently, securing the beach and unloading some of their gear. The group was a small one - five men of science, ready to comb through the forest of the island and take note of the local Pokemon fauna, as well as half a dozen experienced sailors to man the ship they’d arrived on. This was the fourth island in these waters that they’d visited, second to last to be precise. Neither of them had been inhabited by anything else than Pokemon. Civilisation was a far way away.

And yet, something was different here. Nothing Portman could point his finger at, more a feeling than nothing else.

“Sir, we found territory marks of a Samurott. We might be lucky and find a nesting pair,” Weiland said, the youngest of the group. He was so very eager still and did good, solid work, but he still acted a bit like the assistant Portman had first met him as. How often would he have to remind the young man that he’d done his studies and bore a title himself?

Nevermind that, though. “We ought to be careful, then. Wild Samurott can be very aggressive, especially during mating season. I’ll talk to Stevens and then we can go and see if we can find them before setting up camp.”

“Yes, Sir,” Weiland agreed, and so the three of them left the manual labour to their two friends and the sailors as they made their way into the forest. It wasn’t very dense, but the variety of plants was a good sign indeed. Especially the ripened fruits they saw.

“There’s a path,” Stevens pointed out. “Big enough for a Samurott. Pokemon at the ready, gentlemen, we don’t know the temper yet.”

They followed the crude pathway, and again Portland had a funny feeling as he looked down on the packed soil. Something was… wrong, but what could it be? Shaking his head, he concentrated on their current task. And that was when he heard the sounds.

Bewildered looks spread out on all three faces and without a word, they crept further in a slow pace, all the while listening in to an assortment of slurping and slapping sounds. Muffled grunting and one enthusiastic bray followed suit. Weiland’s eyes were big now, and he mouthed a silent ‘mating?’ towards Portland, who nodded. Again they slowed down, barely a crawl through the underbrush now. If those Samurott were currently engaged, it could be quite disastrous…

The sight before him had him shocked to the core. A Samurott was indeed close-by, lying prone on his side, eyes half-closed and huffing in the throes of arousal. It was a hefty specimen, healthy and grown big, with the colouring of the shells marking it as a shiny variety even. It was clearly aroused - Portland could see enough to make out its swollen penis, a healthy vivid red in colour. Most of it was, however, covered by the matted and tangled hair of- of a _human_.

The human knelt next to the Samurott, the skin tanned and slightly scarred. Utterly naked, Portland could easily see the scarring across the shoulders and the neck, as well as an old, badly healed wound on the calf. The undressed state of the wildling also made it clear that it was a man that was leaning over the Samurott’s penis, both hands wrapped around the thick shaft and his mouth firmly put to work - the source of the sucking and slurping sounds.

Next to Portland, Weiland let out a loud gasp, which put an end to the absurd picture. The man flinched around and Portland could see dark, wild eyes and dry lips amidst the mess of unkempt hair and the wiry beard. It was hard to put an age to him, especially with the Samurott taking notice of the three men as well, roaring up in anger. The wildling moved behind the Pokemon, scarred leg dragging, and grabbed for a stone.

Portland didn’t think for long. “Run!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You're welcome to leave prompts and suggestions in my Idea Collection. ☺**


End file.
